


Lights up

by WahlBuilder



Category: Mars: War Logs, The Technomancer (Video Game)
Genre: Cultural Differences, Gen, Holidays, New Years, Post-Canon, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 00:37:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17172524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: The technomancers conduct a ceremony, and they have invited special guests.





	Lights up

The Esplanade is crowded, people pushing and laughing and nudging, a line of iron trees behind them adorned with garlands.

The noise subdues when they step out of the Source. There is hesitation in Zachariah’s step, and Sean, walking just behind his right shoulder, reaches to him with his left hand to touch the small of Zachariah’s back, the gesture concealed from the crowd by the position of their bodies. “It will be all right,” he murmurs, keeping his voice soft to soothe his Zachariah. “You are doing well.”

“There is no making mistakes when you are setting up precedence,” Andrew adds from the side.

Sean can only see Zachariah’s back, his hair pressed down by the circlet. But he pays attention carefully, and sees how Zachariah’s back straightens, just this little bit, and his chin tilts up, and in the white noise of the crowd Sean hears the creaking of his gloves.

He allows himself the smallest twitch of a smile.

They walk in a slow pace (they do not march; if Zachariah can help it, if Sean can help it, no technomancers will ever have to march again), and cheers rise around them.

Sean doesn’t look around, but the atmosphere is electric, and out of the corner of his eye he sees flicks of color. Ophir has donned its brightest colors — and there are Noctian merchants among them, too, merry and beautiful.

The private thought that the crowd — the Clerks and Goodsmen, Majors and Rogues, Hunters and Seekers — that all of them don’t know, can’t even _imagine_ that among the colorful and proud traveling merchant throng is the Prince of Noctis himself… Sean smiles.

The crowd goes nearly silent, and Sean worries for a moment that one of his old injuries is acting out, robbing him of hearing… But then all heads turn away from them, down the Esplanade.

The group walking towards them is not trying to hide their true colors in any way. They wear the gentle sunrise blue with pride, and for the most part their long coats resemble the dark gray coats Zachariah and the technomancers behind him are clad in. They are alike, and different. Sean admires their difference: the purposeful way his own family carries themself — and the grandiose air around their Auroran kindred. But the figure walking at the front is yet more wildly different than their Auroran kin. That figure’s blue is draped over the right shoulder and secured by the belt, and wires and cables are not concealed from sight under cloth and leather. While the Abundancean technomancers and the Aurorans are mostly symmetrical: the two-breasted coats of the former and the open coats of the latter, the notches on their temples, — that lone figure is pointedly asymmetrical: it’s not only the broad blue cloth over one shoulder, but the single golden pauldron on the same right shoulder and golden plating over the right forearm and ending with a beclawed gauntlet. The only symmetrical thing about them is the beatific glowing mask. A warrior-cenobite.

The Aurorans move silently — just as Sean’s family does (technomancers do not make much noise, unless they wish to) — but the lone figure’s step is accentuated by a long staff, and the ringing of it — of three circles interconnected and unbreakable on the top of the staff — fills the whole plaza. It’s such a small sound, and yet carries far, wide and up under the dome. On top of the staff, in a cage of woven white, a blue flame is pulsating.

Sean must admit he is swept up in the magic.

The Aurorans draw close. Sean can’t help but exchange small smiles with those he knows and those he yet to befriend.

“Friends,” Zachariah calls up, “cousins. _Kindred_. We are honored by your presence. There is much to do to mend relationships between us — but for now, there are celebrations and feasts, and water to share, so would you ignite the lights of the new year?”

The whole Ophir seems to hold a breath — and Sean finds himself doing the same.

The masked figure inclines their head gracefully. Now, they are going to walk, alone through the crowd and turn on—

They raise the glowing strange staff and bring it down, and as it strikes the Esplanade and rings, a blue flare blinds Sean momentarily and splits into smaller lightning balls. They rush to the trees.

The garlands flare with blue lights.

Sean remembers to snap his mouth shut. He looks at the masked figure and snorts, as the crowd cheers. “Show off.”

The technomancer takes off their mask, revealing Roy’s smug grin. “Couldn’t resist.” Gripping the Conduit’s staff in his left hand, he clasps the right one with Zachariah’s, and tilts his head to the side. “You promised feasts?”

Sean can’t help but laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> Other stories about Conduit Roy include:  
> [Incandescent](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15854172): Roy formally becomes the Conduit.  
> [Fire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16352174): what a Conduit is capable of.


End file.
